


Videri Quam Esse

by Tish



Category: Fake News FPF, Fake News RPF
Genre: Constructed Reality, Gen, M/M, Steve ColberT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Big changes are afoot in Jon's life. Can Stephen handle the situation, or will it blow his mind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Videri Quam Esse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calliatra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliatra/gifts).



> Many thanks to Jasmine and Autumn for prompting certain elements in this fic.

“Siri! What do I do now?” Stephen's question was a plaintive moan, his head askew on his office desk.

Siri's cool synthetic voice replied, “You have no scheduled meetings.”

“That's not what I meant!” Stephen groaned in frustration, stuffing a fresh muffin into his mouth.

“Finding. Travel agent,” Siri blithely responded.

Siri quickly found herself traveling to the trash can as Stephen manually pawed through the contacts list.

 

 

The street was quiet and empty when Jon arrived, except for Tad letting some well-built guys into the building.

Tad gave a friendly smile as Jon approached. "Hi, Mr. Stewart. Stephen's expecting you, he was in the studio last I saw."

Jon grinned. "Aw, c'mon, always with the _Mister_. Just call me Jon. Looks like you guys are ready to do some heavy humping."

Tad paused as he locked the door, licking his lips nervously before he replied, "Uh, sure. We got a lot of stuff to do. In the boiler room. Boiler room stuff. Yeah." The three guys behind him nodded silently in unison.

"Okay then, don't let me keep you. Have fun, guys." Jon patted Tad's arm and happily trotted into the studio, stopping at the audience seating to look around the set.

 

"Stephen?" Jon's voice echoed around the empty set. As Jon walked toward the desk, a muffled pulsing dance beat drifted up the stairwell from somewhere down below. "Disco in the boiler room, sweet." Jon muttered to himself before raising his voice again. "Stephen?"

"Heh. Let's see." Jon pulled out his phone and was about to hit dial when he noticed a disturbing plume of red misty smoke coming from behind Stephen's desk. "Oh, fuck, is that a fire?" The mist changed to blue, then white as he slowly approached, looking around for the studio's emergency alarm. "What the-?" Jon scrambled around the side of the desk to get a better look.

As Jon peered into the haze, he swore he could see a patch of blue sky under Stephen's desk. Something drew him closer and he found himself leaning into the mist of the not-a-fire. Birdsong chirped in his ears as he fell down into... _something_?

 

Jon blinked as his palms groped along the sidewalk. His knees hurt a little from the fall and he rolled over to sit up. Dusting off his cargo pants, he looked around the street. "The hell? How'd I get outside?"

A well-dressed man gave a disapproving _harrumph_ as he walked by. Jon smiled tightly and nodded at him, and decided that sitting on the sidewalk wasn't such a great idea, and he got up. Staring after the man, Jon began to take in the details. It was New York, undoubtedly, but there was something a little off about it. The passersby all seemed to be in suits and frocks, not a checked shirt or pair of jeans in sight. The streets were cleaner than he'd ever seen in the city, and there was a scent of flowers in the air, yet he was nowhere near a florist. He sniffed again, no car exhaust, no drunkard piss smell at all.

Jon was beginning to feel more than a little creeped out. Had someone given New York a giant spring clean in the five minutes since he'd stepped into Stephen's studio? He clutched at a light post and looked up at the street sign. This should be around the corner, but it looked so unreal, so dreamlike.

Jon sighed. "Oh, right. I'm dreaming. Simple. I stupidly stuck my head into the fire and now this is my final dream. Okay. Cool. No, wait. FUCK!"

 

 He span round and nearly knocked someone over. They clutched each other as they staggered about and regained their balance. Jon chuckled. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Clumsy me, knocking some poor dream soul over." He stopped abruptly as he looked into the man's face. "Stephen? Oh, thank God. Look, there's a fire in the studio, we gotta wake up and get out!"

"Oh, gosh, no. Hi, I'm Steve. Steve Colber _t_." He made sure to emphasize the 't'. "Wait, did you say fire? Stephen will be so angry! This is all my fault." The man fretted as he brushed Jon's clothes down.

Jon took the other man's hands. "Stop, stop. You look exactly like Stephen, just with less product in the hair. I didn't know he had a twin brother."

Steve dithered, wanting to answer, then started running away. "We have to save the studio!" He disappeared around the corner and Jon started running to catch up.

 

As Jon rounded the corner, he nearly slammed into Steve again.

Steve looked haunted. "I dropped Stephen's coffee back there, I have to get him another one."

Jon grabbed him. "Fuck the coffee, we gotta evacuate the building." As they reached the entrance, Jon smashed the fire panel to hit the alarm. "Oh, did it work? I don't hear anything."

Steve shrugged, "Tad was supposed to fix it. Where is he, anyway?"

"Down in the boiler room with his disco muscle buddies," Jon replied, trying not to grin.

Steve started to smile, but it froze upon his face. A stern voice from behind Jon signaled Stephen's appearance.

"He needs that music to get into a work rhythm. Hi, Jon, be with you in a moment. Where's my coffee, Steve?"

Steve shrank into himself and looked at a particularly interesting spot on the ground, away from Stephen's glare. "I dropped it, sir. I'm sorry."

Jon sighed. "Wait, wait. Before you go all military junta on your twin brother, the set's on fire. There's smoke and weird lights coming from behind your desk. I don't know why I'm telling you this when I'm obviously dreaming, but there you go."

Stephen adjusted his glasses and tilted his head at Jon. "First of all, the building's not on fire, I just came from the studio. Secondly, _that_ ," pointing at Steve. "That is not my brother, twin or otherwise. I made Steve in this Vortex, so don't bother treating him as if he's real or anything. Go inside and find something to tidy, Steve."

Steve meekly nodded and went inside, leaving a still confused Jon.

 

“Thirdly," Stephen paused. "Thirdly, I forget. Oh, now I remember. Jon, we need to talk, come ride with me."

Jon rubbed the bridge of his nose and wearily asked, "Oh, yeah? Is a unicorn driven sleigh gonna pull up?"

Stephen nodded and gently turned Jon around, "Yes, now get in."

Jon stared as the unicorn shook her mane. "Of course it's a unicorn. This is one wild dream."

"That was my fourth point, Jon. You're _not_ dreaming, this Vortex is all my handiwork." Stephen smiled adoringly down at Jon. "I wanted to show it to you. So you'll get used to it and be happy."

Jon settled down in the sleigh, distracted by the unicorn's rump in discomforting proximity. "That thing's not gonna fart is it?"

"Jon, please." Stephen patted the cushion next to him and slid closer, one arm wrapping around Jon's shoulder. "Now, let's enjoy the ride."

 

 

The unicorn set off at a steady pace, the traffic around them moving out of their way as if by some silent command.

The gentle rhythm of the carriage and beauty of the city's gleaming buildings lulled Jon into a reverie as he snuggled next to Stephen. Jon noticed that every third shop was a Starbucks, and baristas waited plaintively at the door, yearning for Stephen's patronage, turning away in disappointment as the carriage slid past. As they turned a corner into a version of Times Square, Stephen's face beamed majestically over several buildings, statues of him in heroic poses lined the broad street, and actual Stephen grinned deliriously at these monuments to himself.

Jon suppressed a chuckle and asked, "Seriously, though. What was this important meeting about? You sounded so excited on the phone."

"All this, Jon. It's for you. Don't go! You'll get to stay here and read the news at me every night." Stephen's enthusiasm and love was like a puppy's as he stroked Jon's arm.

Jon smiled kindly as he shook his head. "Stephen, it's time for me to move on, it'll be a great adventure. Seeing what happens next is what life is all about. I can't live in _your_ dream world, I have my world, my future. So do you!"

 

As they entered Central Park, the cherry blossoms fell from the trees and a cool breeze sent them flying through the air. Stephen took a blanket and set it over their knees, as the first snowflakes fell. They glowed with red, white, and blue sparkles, and Jon thought he heard eagles softly screech as they fell.

Stephen turned toward Jon, his eyes almost mournful as he spoke. "I've still got a place in that future, right? You won't be making all those commie Hollywood films all the time. You gotta have some down time with your best friend, right?"

"You're more than a best friend to me, Stephen." Jon's smile was like sunshine in the sudden chilly dusk. "You're full of decency and love, it just gets a little screwed-up sometimes."

Stephen's face fell a little. "I'm screwed-up?"

"Well, that Steve dude. You created a replica of yourself and treat him like a servant? Why? Is he actually real, are all these people down here real?" Jon tilted his face in puzzlement.

Stephen bit his lip. "Yes and no. All the people are like cardboard cut-outs. Steve's different, he's real, or close enough. Every time I ever felt ridiculous emotions like compassion for poor people, I poured it into him, just like screaming into a rage jar and burying it. All those wrong feelings, he feels them so _**I**_ don't have to. Look, if poor people wanted to live in dignity, then they shouldn't be poor!"

Jon sighed and patted Stephen's arm. "There's nothing wrong with feeling compassion, or empathy, or anything like that. It's how we grow, how we become better people. It's how your very good friend, Jesus worked."

Stephen shot a glare at Jon. "That was a low blow, Jon. Jesus is one of _my_ people, not yours!"

"I'm right, though, aren't I?' Jon nodded. "Now, you've got a lookalike with all the qualities that can make a truly wonderful human, and you've got him stuck down here as your dogsbody. If he's really real, can you please let him out?"

"He's as real as I am," Stephen whispered solemnly as he looked down at his hands.

 

The snow and the unicorn both stopped, as the sky cleared to a starry sky. A blurry shadow formed under a lamp post and Steve came into view. He halted, coffee cup in his hand as he looked around, bewildered.

Stephen jumped off the sleigh and took the coffee with a genuine smile. "Thank you, Steve. I appreciate all your hard work."

As Steve stared in confusion, Stephen handed the cup to Jon, then turned back to hug Steve, who uncertainly returned the hug as bright light swirled around them.

Shielding his eyes, Jon was beginning to think he should have brought his sunglasses, but then the light faded, leaving only Stephen hugging himself. He dropped his arms and staggered a little before gingerly feeling his chest.

Astonished, Jon moved his lips a little, before forcing out a sound. He took a sip of coffee and managed to ask, "Are you okay?"

Stephen looked into his eyes and smiled, warm, bright, and full of love. "Yes, Jon. We're very okay."

Jon pointed randomly. "Steve's ...gone?"

Stephen patted his chest. "Right here. Feels kind of weird, but _good_ weird, you know?" He held out his hand to Jon. "You wanna get out of here, grab a pizza?"

Jon looked at the unicorn's ass. "We taking the unicorn?"

Shaking his head with a smile, Stephen replied, "She's not real, Jon. Not out there. She'll go back in the rift to the Unicorn Dimension." He nodded to a small rip of light and pulled it back.

Jon hopped down and peered into the hole. "Isn't that behind your desk? The way I came in?"

"Yep, just climb out." Stephen pulled himself through and disappeared, his hand re-emerging to help Jon through.

 

The faint beats of a funky phat bass groove seeped up from the boiler room as Jon climbed up from under Stephen's desk. He gave one last look back as the light faded and disappeared.

"Gone. All that fakery, all the smoke and mirrors, no more." Stephen smiled wistfully. "I'll miss it for a while, I guess. What do I do now?"

Jon set the coffee cup down on the desk and kissed him. "Go get the future, that's what! You're a good man, Stephen Colbert."

"It's time to be. To be with you." Stephen's smile was the sunniest and most joyous thing in the universe as he gazed into Jon's eyes.

Arm in arm, they walked out to their new lives.

 

 


End file.
